A Valentine Wish (Gates-Cameron 1)

Dean pushed himself carefully out of the chair. “But he didn’t, Anna. Thanks to you. It was because of your warning that I wasn’t standing directly beneath the bench when it fell.”

Looking away from him, she crossed her arms over her chest, as though she were chilled. Dean wondered if she felt cold. Or pain. Or need.

“I was so afraid for you,” she whispered. “I felt so helpless. And then you were lying there, bleeding, with that big bench on top of you, and I couldn’t even move it. I tried, but my hand passed through it. As though—as tho

ugh I wasn’t even there.”

Dean took a step closer to her. “Anna, it’s okay. You did your best. You managed to warn me, and then somehow you got help. I’m very grateful to you.”

She looked at him then, and her eyes were so tortured that his throat tightened. He had his answer now. She could feel pain. And it was tearing him apart.

“It was like I wasn’t even there,” she repeated in a whisper. “As though I was...dead.”

The word hung heavily between them.

Dean forced her name past a painful lump in his throat. “Anna.”

She covered her face with her hands. “No,” she whispered. “Don’t say anything yet.”

He gave her a moment, then tried again. “Anna.”

Her composure regained, she lowered her hands. “You think you were attacked because you’ve been investigating our deaths.”

It wasn’t a question, but Dean nodded. “That’s a possibility. One of several, of course.”

“I want you to stop. Now. No more questions, no more probing. Run our—your inn. Forget you ever saw me.”

He lifted a hand to her marble-cold cheek. “You don’t really think I can do that, do you?”

She covered his hand with her own. “You have no choice. I don’t want you hurt, Dean. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you because of me.”

He shook his head. “Nothing’s going to happen to me.”

She looked pointedly at his bandages, at the sling supporting his right arm. “Something already did. And next time, it could be worse.”

“There won’t be a next time.”

She moved away from him, her gestures sharp, exasperated. “How do you know that?”

“I’ll be careful.”

“The way Ian and I were careful?” she said hotly.

“You weren’t expecting anything to happen,” he retorted. “I am. And next time, if there is a next time, I won’t be caught unaware.”

“Dean, please—”

“This isn’t open to discussion, Anna. I promised to clear your name, and your brother’s. And if there’s any way I can do so, I will.”

She looked up at him through her lashes. “You’re so anxious to be rid of me?”

It was like a blow to his chest, knowing his success would mean that she would leave him. “I don’t ever want to be rid of you,” he said huskily.

She searched his face with widened eyes. “Dean—”

“Do you need me to spell it out for you?”

“No,” she whispered, looking away. “It would be better if you didn’t. This... this can’t be.”